[Wolfwood's gonna have to open the door himself. Inside, he will find...
A shitton, a fuckton of unfinished explosives pressed against the walls in stacks. Wolfwood hopefully knows what bombs look like, even in an unfinished state, considering where he's from.
He's clearly up to his elbows in work, or he would've answered the door himself. Without looking up from where he's currently buried in scrap metal and the like, he says:]
no subject
A shitton, a fuckton of unfinished explosives pressed against the walls in stacks. Wolfwood hopefully knows what bombs look like, even in an unfinished state, considering where he's from.
He's clearly up to his elbows in work, or he would've answered the door himself. Without looking up from where he's currently buried in scrap metal and the like, he says:]
Yes? [...] Oh, Wolfwood, you're back.